you come beating like moth's wings
by eyeslikeashowroom
Summary: Or, how Quinn's always been close to breaking, and then one day, she's not. Faberry oneshot.


**So this is my first time writing a oneshot for Glee. I can't decide if I like it too much, or what. Please leave a quick review if you read it and let me know what you guys think!**

**Title from "Moth's Wings" by Passion Pit.**

* * *

Seeing Quinn lying there like that doesn't seem real.

It is.

The realness of it grips Rachel by the throat and doesn't let go as her eyes trace the contours of Quinn's still, _still_ body, and it's so _unmoving_.

It's unnerving to see Quinn this broken, this vulnerable and when Rachel immediately pales because she's not sure how to stomach this, Finn glances at her but doesn't say anything. He's worrying too, just not as much and not the same. But everyone assumes Rachel's such a caring, emotional person that they let her cry and pale and stare silently when it comes to Quinn. But for Rachel, it's so much more than just being _emotional_.

She misses Quinn, everyday she's not at school. Her absence is a hole that burns incessantly.

And Rachel _knows_ Finn knows.

When she excuses herself to the bathroom or refuses to eat lunch or wipes at her eyes furiously in the middle of class, Finn knows. And Rachel can't being herself to care, really, because it's _Quinn_.

And the day Rachel admits to Finn that she can't stop thinking about Quinn, suddenly there she is. As perfect and poised as she's ever been, and Rachel's eyes fleetingly scan Quinn's wheelchair before rising up to lock with pools of hazel. She goes to say they've missed Quinn, _she_ missed Quinn, but Quinn interrupts her and Rachel thinks she'll tell her at a different time in a different way, by herself. She wants to do it without all these people gawking at the ex Head Cheerio in a wheelchair, and when she thinks she wants to do it without Finn there, she doesn't feel guilty, at all. Quinn's _here_.

And when Quinn says today is the happiest day of her life, Rachel thinks yeah, because maybe it's hers, too.

.

The first time that she even touches Quinn, since the accident, comes too soon and not soon enough all at the same time. But that day at school, when Quinn rolls up to Rachel slowly and the light pouring in from a window fans out around her and creates this angel of a person, Rachel clasps her hands together and knows she'll say yes to anything that comes out of this goddess' mouth.

"Come to my house, after school," is what Quinn says.

And Rachel stops breathing, or maybe she starts.

.

It's a precarious situation, the way she wants to be around Quinn. She wants to maybe give her a bear hug, crush her with embraces, and feelings, and relief, but in other ways she wants to treat Quinn delicately, shy away from anything too real that might break her. Because Quinn had came so close to breaking, has _always_ been close to breaking, and for Rachel to push her over that edge is not fair, at all.

Going to Quinn's house because Quinn invites her, sitting down on Quinn's couch because Quinn asks her too, smiling tight lipped at Judy Fabray because Quinn introduces them, is_ fair_.

Quinn's mom looks tired, and not the kind of physical exhaustion tired or the kind of giving up tired. Rachel thinks she seems maybe a hopeful kind of tired, because Quinn is improving and going to therapy and not crying as much and it's still a lot to bear but it's _better_, not necessarily _easier_.

Quinn trembles whenever her mother mentions the hospital or the accident, and the way Rachel sort of impulsively smooths her hand out against Quinn's arm is an anchor for both of them to grasp onto.

Quinn's mother excuses herself and encourages them to watch a movie or talk about girl things or whatever teenage friends do these days, and the question spirals through Rachel's brain immediately: Are they..._friends_?

Quinn's hand moves so her fingers can interlock with Rachel's, and that's new. And her grip is contrastingly strong, no matter how weak other things about her may be.

Quinn tells her mother that she loves her, in a deliberate kind of way that let's Rachel know they aren't words Quinn speaks often. But they're words that are desperately needed at a time like this, that perfectly slot into Judy Fabray's heart and show that Quinn will be alright, and that's a good but terribly precious thing. And when Judy's face brightens in a smile, when Rachel can see all the wrinkles and laugh lines and perfect gratefulness etched into the woman's face, Rachel, in this moment, loves her too.

She doesn't know what movie they watch. Something about the "ugly truth", and something about love and boys and girls, but it's not a musical, so Rachel doesn't really know what they watch. What she _does_ know is that Quinn's eyes_ burst_ when she smiles, and they look to Rachel like fireworks. They make her feel fireworks, too. And Rachel knows the creases in Quinn's mouth when she smiles, the way she bites her lip when she's amused, the way her hand had gripped at Rachel's fleetingly in the beginning of the movie and still has yet to let go.

These are the things Rachel knows.

She doesn't know it's over until oceans of hazel swing her way, and Quinn's smiling at her now. "It's an alright movie," Quinn tells her, and Rachel feels like she's underwater as she tries to pull herself out of the Quinn-induced haze she's fallen under. "Not one of the...more intelligent ones I prefer, but still a funny one."

And then she asks Rachel if she wants to see her room, and Rachel's nodding before Quinn can even get the sentence out of her mouth. She flushes as she stands up and helps wheel Quinn to where the she instructs her to go, and Quinn's room is very _Quinn_, but _not_ her at the same time.

It's relatively plain, with stark white walls, and Rachel knows Quinn is anything but plain. But there's so much stuff, like, _smart_ stuff, and that part is so, _so_ Quinn. There's three book cases filled with books, and Rachel goes to run her fingers across their spines. It's like she's mapping out Quinn's _life_ beneath her fingerprints, and she feels the corner of her mouth lift with a smile. As she turns her eyes are graced with a couple shelves of records, (records, Quinn listens to _records_), and movies that she doesn't recognize half the titles of, and when she turns to look at Quinn, the blonde is watching her with the smallest, sweetest smile on her face.

The urge to say "I love you" hits Rachel abruptly, like a train, and she gasps from the intensity of it. The words bubble up in her chest and it feels sort of like a volcano, and her face must look weird because now Quinn is leveling her with a look of confusion.

"What's wrong?" she asks and_ God_, Rachel can't tell her but she just so desperately wants to say those three, heavenly words. The feelings sort of come out of nowhere, but she's always been an impulsive person and it's so hard for her to reign everything in, especially this, especially the abrupt potential of something new and perfect and _right_.

"I...nothing, I..."

"Rachel," Quinn huffs a laugh, wheeling herself closer so she's right in Rachel's main line of vision. And when she reaches for Rachel's hand she's so just so _perfect_ and _God_.

"I just...I think I...I really, _really_ like you."

Quinn's smile is _blinding_.

.

Santana corners her two weeks after they become friends (or whatever they are, because the way Quinn's soft fingertips grazed her thigh last night and the way her full lips pressed against Rachel's forehead with all of the care in the world, didn't really feel like _friends_).

Santana ushers Rachel into an empty classroom and Rachel flinches the whole way, and the way Santana snaps "Jesus, Berry, I'm not dragging you in here to murder you," just makes her flinch harder.

"So you and Q," Santana begins, leaning against a desk and watching as Rachel stands in front of her nervously.

"Quinn and I," Rachel repeats after a moment, nodding when it's clear Santana is waiting for some sort of response before she continues.

Santana sighs deeply, and this side of Santana is something Rachel's never, ever seen before. She looks worried, unsure, cautious, and Rachel never knew Santana could turn emotional like this, much less be _caring_.

"Quinn's been through a lot, and...and I just want her to be happy, alright?"

Rachel's eyes widen with the sudden importance of this conversation. Santana is...Santana...is Santana giving her her_ blessing_?

"I want her to be happy, too," is what Rachel replies after a long moment, and that's enough for Santana.

.

A couple days later it's "I broke up with Finn," and "We're not getting married," and "I _like_ you," and Quinn's eyes turn into a night sky of dazzling stars (because, metaphors are _important_), when she goes to hold Rachel. When Quinn's lips graze hers she feels like she's exploding, or maybe imploding, and there's not a lot of talking that night, really.

.

As Rachel's helping Quinn get her books down from her locker later that week, Quinn abruptly reaches out and grasps at her arm. "I was...I was wondering, um, would you like to...come to...physical therapy with me? Today?"

Rachel almost drops Quinn's math book. Quinn's _never_ asked her that.

"I would love to," she replies, after she's done feeling like she's swooning because of the earnest, open way Quinn is looking at her just now.

Quinn's smile could light up a whole stadium, and Rachel's beginning to love the feeling of knowing that she put it there.

"I also had another question," Quinn husks after a moment, clearing her throat, and Rachel knows she must be looking at Quinn like, super intense right now, but she can't help it. Going to therapy with Quinn is a _big deal_. She's snaps back to reality when Quinn continues speaking. "I...would you...I wanted...uh..."

Rachel smiles, affectionately squeezing at Quinn's shoulder as the blonde stutters over her words. Quinn gets a very deliberate, concentrated look on her face.

"I...would you...I know it's kind of soon but I just...would you be my girlfriend, Rachel?"

Rachel's hug is bone crushing, and Quinn's smiling _that_ smile, and her eyes look like fireworks, and people are staring, but it's freeing when Rachel realizes she doesn't _care_.

Her smile matches Quinn's, and later when Rachel passes Santana in the hallway, she smiles, too.

And Quinn's not close to breaking, not anymore.


End file.
